The hours passed by quickly enough, motivated by both the original goal of determining the secret of the Third Step, and also by the wish to put an end to the awful treatment of the scrolls, which soon accumulated in unravelled heaps across the floor. But even as I slowly learnt to ignore my pain at seeing the disrespect paid to such priceless treasures, I found myself falling deeper into the mysteries that had been laid out before me, hidden within the scrolls.
The vast majority didn’t even cover the Third Step directly, if they mentioned it at all. Instead, I was treated to an absolute whirlwind of every aspect of cultivation that the Sect had determined an aspirant should know. I learnt about the effectiveness and importance of fire techniques, in more detail than I ever had before; I read through experiments that compared and contrasted different cultivation elixirs and their compatibility with actually living; I even stumbled across one old script that, incredibly, discussed the enhancement of the Seven Falls Stance to something even more costly and unwieldy, a technique that would serve as an elevated challenge to those that had advanced to the Third Step.
But on every tenth scroll I would slowly learn a little bit more about that next advancement, towards what I knew as ‘Soul Anchoring’. Bit by bit, the Step unfolded itself before me, revealing itself as less as a jump and more of an utter chasm. Occasionally I would refer back to a reserved pile of documents to answer one question, only to be greeted by ten more.
And I feel like I could spend a decade contemplating some of them, I thought, tossing another scroll onto the pile. It had grown enough to swallow the armchair they’d taken over, until nothing could be seen but the occasional patch of fabric on the back or the ornately carved feet at the bottom. In comparison, I only kept three right by my side; the Considerations that I had first picked up, which had been something of a guiding star, another grim one called Techniques on Resisting Pain, which contained a suspicious number of references to the Third Step, and one last one that was infuriatingly called Yun’s Hints. I could just see the Senior Librarian’s challenging smirk at that one.
“Just a reminder that we won’t have a day, let alone a decade,” came Death’s reply from across the room. I glanced over to where the manifestation of the end of all mortal things had somehow contorted herself into some upside-down posture, legs over the back of the chair as her head dangled off the edge of the seat, reading some scroll loosely draped over the blade of her scythe, which stood leaning at a slight angle against the table. Even as I watched, the scroll began to lose its fight against gravity and rolled off onto the floor, onto the growing mound of yet more priceless manuscripts. Death shot me a scowl as I hissed. “Oh, it’s just some old paper and ink, get over it. Did you get anything?”
“Soul Anchoring is the first true challenge a cultivator faces, and the truest sign that they’re worthy of their role,” I answered wisely. “And apart from that pithy line, the rest is clear as mud.”
Death groaned, her head lolling back to softly thunk against the plush chair. “Did cultivators decide that boring me to death was the best way to avoid me? Because it’s fucking working.”
“To be fair, even if none of them are being straightforward, there’s a couple of hints.” I slowly pulled out the dubiously named Resisting Pain. “This one makes it pretty clear that Soul Anchoring is meant to be more painful than any physical injury. Perhaps the Anchoring is literal? Maybe some sort of qi construct, a permanent technique that actively pins the body and soul together?”
Death waved her hand dismissively. “No mere technique is going to keep me from carrying someone’s soul off to the Cycle, otherwise you’d just be able to ward a room and stay in it forever. Besides, a body and soul are normally plenty attached to each other, barring annoying exceptions. That’s you, by the way.”
I graciously ignored her comment. “Otherwise, it mentions that the process absolutely needs to be done in one go; once you begin the Third Step, you can’t stop until you’ve completed it, and any interruption is…fatal.” Immediately so, based on the descriptions here of spontaneous combustion.
Death sunk her head deeper into the plush with a relaxed sigh. “Spontaneous combustion is more common than you think. Can’t exactly think of anything specific to that which would make sense.”
I watched Death roll her head around in the soft velvet for a moment, reconciling the image of a girl enjoying such luxury with the horror of what she’d just said. I eventually decided not to reconcile it. “That’s terrible.”
“That’s life!” Death sing-songed, looking towards me with a flat expression to contrast her voice. “Or death, whatever you prefer. Got anything else?”
“Just questions,” I sighed, staring over the piles of scrolls, and the even greater number that were still within their nooks…and the girl amongst it all, almost looking like she was about to fall asleep, covered in a blanket of unfurled parchment. Of all of the mysteries in this room, she still remained the greatest, and the questions I had on the Third Step only seemed to grow dimmer in comparison to those I had regarding her.
“Well?” Death opened one eye, glancing at me. “C’mon, we don’t have all day.”
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, thinking. I should probably just go for it. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘Death’. So what’s your actual name?”
I was treated to the sight of Death tumbling out of the chair, scrolls catapulted across the room as she spun head over heels and collided with the ground, her legs slamming with a painful-sounding thud against the centre table. I didn’t even have a chance to flinch in sympathy before the manifestation of death quickly scrambled to her feet, pointing at me furiously. “What the hell does that have to do with the Third Step?”
“I just thought it would be nice to know!”
“Then why’d you only ask now!?”
I swept my arms out, gesturing at the general state of everything. “I’m sorry, but we’ve been kind of busy!”
“Gods above!” Death dragged at her face with her hands, groaning as she slowly sat back down in her seat. She spent a few seconds collecting herself, murmuring under her breath while staring daggers at me. “Fucking…fine. Fine! Sure, it doesn’t matter that the Cycle is literally falling apart, let’s ask my name, shall we? Let’s just distract ourselves from why we’re here.” Even as she spoke, she slumped further into her seat, until her chin was tucked in against her neck and her sharp glare had turned more into a sullen pout. “...s’isabla.”
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“Pardon?”
“It’s Isabella,” she enunciated, crossing her arms and turning her head away. “There. Congratulations, you know my name. Y’happy?” The girl quickly grabbed another scroll and focused on reading it, refusing to meet my eyes.
It left me with not much to do but consider Death- Isabella's answer. I hadn’t known what to expect in the first place, so I couldn’t say I was surprised by the name. Perhaps I expected something like a noble name? But no matter her current occupation, she’d never made an effort to present herself as anything other than just a farm girl. It was different, perhaps, than those names that dominated the Seven Falls Sect, but did ‘Ryan’ fit in any better?
“Isabella,” I said, testing the name. “It’s a nice name. Maybe Izzy, or Bella? But Isabella, it’s…nice.” It’s pretty, I couldn’t help but think.
The scroll crumpled in her hands slightly, but the expected outburst didn’t come. Nor did I see any other sort of movement, beyond tense hands that ever so slightly shook as they held tightly onto the parchment. In fact, she pulled it closer to her face, hiding beneath the scroll and out of my sight. It was utterly unlike anything else I’d ever seen from the girl.
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do. “Is…everything alright?” I ventured.
“Stupid,” came the response, whispered only barely loud enough to be heard.
Back in slightly more familiar territory now. “I mean it. Well, the thought- I mean that too, I suppose, but I really do mean that Isabella’s a nice name!”
“Not what I meant,” she replied quietly, letting go of the scroll with one of her hands, allowing it to drop to hang from the other. And with the parchment now lying in a wrinkled blanket across her lap I saw Isabella’s face, without any hint of fury upon it; just red eyes, with tears running down her cheeks. With a deep breath, she lifted her free hand to furiously rub at her eyes. “Just-” she coughed, sniffing. “I just forgot what it was like. To hear someone else say it.” Isabella tried to laugh, the sound heavy with unwept tears. “It’s been a while.”
The first time I had seen Death, it had been as I’d laid dying on the floor of an arena, wondering why such a stranger would be there, surrounded by Disciples of the Seven Falls Sect. The second time, I’d known a little better, but I’d already begun to resolve that stranger in my mind as a divine being; their appearance was really just a reflection of myself. And the third time, waking up after my second death and being saved by her intervention, I’d barely had the time to do more than run, my mind clouded by the fog of death and the haze of drugs.
But now I sat in a room with Death, and I couldn’t see the divine being anymore. Whatever pedestal I’d been putting on had, in this moment, disappeared, leaving behind just a girl who’d once lived the same life as me, working under the sun to scratch out a life upon this world. And no matter however many years she’d played her role wielding that scythe, she was still a person.
Her name was Isabella, and she was doing her best not to cry.
I stood up from my chair and walked over the mound of parchment, sitting myself on the armrest of her chair, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in against me. “I’m so sorry, Isabella,” I said. “You didn’t deserve this. I’m sorry.”
I felt her tense for just a moment, as the hand that had been crumpling the parchment moved to grab a fistful of my own undershirt. But, slowly, she loosened her grip, moving her arm around me to rest on my back as she buried her face in my side, not making a single sound even as Isabella shook with the burden of whatever weight she’d been carrying for an unfathomable number of years.
I didn’t move a muscle, simply holding her there for the next few minutes even as I felt my own shirt grow wet from her tears. Instead, I just considered the scythe that still leaned against the other side of the chair, its cold edge gleaming underneath the script lights. It didn’t move, or emanate some menacing aura, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was intelligent in its own way. You’ve claimed more lives than just what you’ve reaped, haven’t you?
I felt a sobbing laugh against my stomach. “I d-don’t think the scythe can hear you.” Slowly, Isabella pulled herself away, grabbing the parchment in her lap to wipe at her face.
For once, I could ignore the sacrilege, focusing instead on the half-smile that had crossed the girl’s face. “Are you going to be okay?”
She just laughed again, shaking her head as she dropped the tear-stained parchment to the ground. “First time in ten thousand years that anyone has asked me that. I think I’ll be a bit better than I was before.”
Ten thousand years? I forced the thought out of my head, doing my best to ignore the faint flicker of despair that crossed Isabella’s own face. Moving on. I clapped my hands together, forcing her attention away from my thoughts and onto me. “Then I’m glad. Pretty girls shouldn’t cry, and my mother would be furious if I’d been the one to make you cry.”
Isabella blinked at me a few times, before a laugh escaped her lips. “You really don’t hesitate to say such outrageous things, do you?”
“Cultivators do outrageous things,” I shrugged. “Maybe more of those outrageous things should be complimenting pretty girls instead of challenging the Heavens.”
She shook her head, the remaining tears now forgotten in favour of a bemused smile. “The world would be a better place for it.” Once more, she took a breath, this time slow and smooth, the weight that had been hidden there not gone, but lessened. Slowly, with an exhale, the girl named Isabella took a step back, and Death emerged once more, ready to do her duty. “I think we’ve got all we can get from here. Which isn’t much, but it’s time we move on.”
I nodded in agreement, sliding off the armchair. “Better get out of here before we overstay Yun’s welcome.” I took a moment to look around the room, trying my best not to grimace as I was forced to confront the state we’d left the library. “Though maybe we can delay leaving just for a bit, so he doesn’t decide to hunt me down to repair the parchment with my hide.”
Death just shook her head with a dismissive chuckle, and after a few minutes of quickly wrapping up and returning the loose scrolls we left the room behind, ascending the steps to the surface. It only took a few minutes for us to escape the glow of the script-lights and enter the embrace of the sun filtered through the stain-glass ceiling-
Soft words in a familiar voice echoed down the staircase at the edge of my hearing. “-enior Librarian, I apologise for the interruption in your work.”
I instinctively forced myself against the wall, pulling Isabella with me. The avatar of Death didn’t even get a chance to speak before I used my other hand to cover her mouth, cutting off her protests with a sharp shake of the head as I stared at her pleadingly.
Painstakingly, she pulled my hand off her mouth. “No one can hear me, dumbass. What the hell is the issue?”
Oh. Right.
The answer to Isabella’s question came from above, as Yun’s voice boomed throughout the library. “It is no issue, Junior Brother. What can I do for the Wenhua?”
“I’m looking for an Outer Disciple by the name of Ryan,” said the voice of my killer. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”